The Sinner and the Cynical
by Fiercest
Summary: In the wake of Donna's not-so-triumphant return to the Tardis, she and the Doctor no longer trust each other. Travelling through the Universe in awkward silence gets old quickly. Meanwhile, Clara uncovers a mystery when one of her students disappears. Ch7: Is it a crime to have a little flirt?
1. You can't just shove it in the closet

**A/n:** This story is a sequel to ' **Steady as the Beating Drum** ', if you'd like you can read that first please do! But if not, the following is a brief, spoiler-y 'where we left off':

 _The Twelfth Doctor runs into Donna unexpectedly and becomes aware of strange goings on at her employer- Uto-tech. As it turns out Donna is working for the Master. Through gaining her trust and falsifying her memories he convinces her that he is the Doctor. The story culminates in the Doctor kidnapping a reluctant Donna from the Master's clutches. He finds them and shoots them both. Shockingly, Donna regenerates. With her real memories returned to her Donna is reluctant to trust the Doctor, but having no life to go back to, decides to stay aboard the Tardis._

The Sinner and the Cynical

Chapter 1: You can't just shove it in the closet

x

Imitating oneself is a very difficult endeavor to undertake. Donna's voice had changed quite drastically. It was very deep and sort of gravelly, although it seemed to rise in pitch and volume when she was angry or flustered.

"Are you alright Sweetheart? You sound ill." The voice on the other end of the mobile tutted in concern.

"Just caught a bit of a cold gramps, don't worry." She punctuated this statement with a flimsy cough.

"Well, alright love. Give my love to the Doctor!" Donna snorted and rolled her eyes.

The Doctor gestured with the octagonal spanner he'd been fiddling with, trying to get Donna's attention. Unable to discern his meaning, she rolled her eyes, turned away and waved him off impatiently.

"Mmhmm," she was saying, impatiently. "I'll definitely do that. Bye." She clicked off and whirled around with a huff.

The Doctor wondered if she'd yell at him if he tried to speak again. There were so many things that hadn't been discussed. There was so much that lay between them. He wanted to clear the rabble, but he equally wanted to let it lie, gather dust and be forgotten.

"You're still in your pyjamas, and they're singed," he indicated his own chest area.

She looked down and with an 'eep' crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll be back in a mo'," she exclaimed with a squeak, before rushing off to the closet no doubt.

Donna had left her home in the middle of the night. The partial recovery of her memories had been swift and sudden. The rest of the night's events had left her no time to change.

Left alone, the Doctor felt a weight lift off of his chest. It had already been an hour since Donna reentered the Tardis. That was an age, an eternity practically. The stress was making him pull at the gray curls atop his head, he feared he'd be bald within the fortnight if the last sixty minutes were anything to go by.

Donna Noble had reentered his life by the most unlikely avenue and now he had no idea what to do with her- no plans beyond awkwardly sidestepping all the issues that went unspoken.

For instance: His new body, her new body, the stealing and reintroduction of memories, interceding years, time, space, history…

Well it was no wonder there didn't seem like there'd _ever_ be enough time to go through it all. Better it all is left to a later date that would preferably never come.

* * *

Donna was not quite sure where the closet was anymore. It wasn't where it used to be, anyway. She made the left at the weirdly mottled sconce but it was nowhere to be found.

Funny, that.

Soon enough Donna noticed something odd in the vicinity of her cerebellum. She couldn't be certain what the feeling was, or what in the world a cerebellum could be, but there you go.

Anyway, once she noticed it she couldn't un-notice it. With a start she realized it was the Tardis.

Donna had always known that the Doctor and the Tardis had a weird psychic thing between them that went beyond words. She supposed that any old Time Lord could pull the same trick, but she hadn't followed the logical conclusion, which was that she could do it too.

It wasn't a very strong feeling, more like an inkling that the Old Girl wanted something from her. Perhaps the connection would grow with time and she'd be able to turn the lights on and off or something. Wouldn't that be a wonderful parlor trick?

The feeling led her to sort of turn her head in the opposite direction, where the walkway was being lit up by orbs glowing a soft green. She followed the trail of glowstick-like light to a room at the end of the hall which was rather smaller than she remembered.

It was lined wall to wall with racks and shelves, but none of the contents were familiar to her. It was organized the same, by galaxy then by decade, but many of the remarkable pieces were gone.

There was a gown which she had long admired, it was either 15th century France, or 168th century Kamecon 9. The confection was a shimmery violet, with a big poofy skirt and crystals around the bust. She'd never had occasion to wear it, but she'd always hoped their travels would bring such a scenario about.

More notably though, were the missing armoires. They'd each been labeled, with characters that were mostly English, but sometimes weren't. An identical one had occupied a large amount of space in her own room, which should have been eerie but wasn't.

Each of the intricately carved wooden armoires had belonged to a companion. When they left their things aboard the Tardis, for one reason or another, they would end up in the closet. To Donna, it had seemed like hope springing eternal, that maybe the owners would return one day to reclaim the things they'd left behind.

Perhaps the Doctor simply stored those things elsewhere. Maybe her things were in some cupboard in some random room she'd stumble across one day.

Maybe he'd grown less sentimental with age and had merely tossed it all. It was nothing to her; who even cared anyway? Certainly not Donna Noble. If anything, she was just worried about that jacket she'd bought that one time on that planet with the weird things.

This time alone was terrible for her, it made her so maudlin. But on the bright side, she could finally get a good look at herself.

Donna had never exactly been confident in her appearance. She was always a little too thick around, well, everywhere, and her breasts were just so inconveniently big, her nose turned up funny, and she had a weird mole on her chin. It wasn't often that she felt beautiful in her own skin. She supposed she was excited for a change.

In the corner was a three sided mirror. She stepped in front of it tentatively, like she was afraid of spooking her own reflection.

In the glass was a very short, stout woman. Perhaps younger than Donna knew herself to be. She wondered if that was how the Doctor saw himself all the time, eternally younger than he was.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the singed fabric over her chest, remnants of a wound which only hours ago had been gaping and fatal. She couldn't get the Master's face out of her head as he'd shot her. At the time, she'd thought he was the Doctor. Though she felt a certain distance from the feelings of betrayal she had had, it was still a raw sort of painful.

She ran her hands down her body, smoothing down her skin as if fixing a wrinkled skirt. She'd have liked to have been skinny, she supposed, prettier, definitely.

And her height was most certainly going to become an issue at some point. She could tell, right now.

Donna had been turned around, peering at the reflection of her bum when the clearing of someone's throat startled her.

The Doctor hummed awkwardly then thrust an armful of parcels at her.

 _An hour ago the Doctor stepped out of the Tardis and onto the Nobles' stoop looking very determined and serious. "Stand up," he'd commanded. And Donna had._

 _"I'm a different man now," he swore. The significance of the oath was lost on Donna but it had felt important._

 _"I can see that."_

 _He rolled his eyes. "There is a place for you in this universe," he promised._

 _"What makes you think that place isn't Earth?"_

 _"You're the one who still hasn't gone inside your house."_

 _They held each other's stare for a long moment before Donna sighed in a gust of relinquished tension. "Fine. But we need to make a pit stop. None of my clothes are going to fit anymore. You're takin' me shoppin'."_

He'd taken her to the universe's largest mall at the height of the United Planet Capitalist Conglomeration, then Bloomingdales in 21st century New York. He hadn't even complained too much once she'd brought up her own death as supplication.

"Get dressed," he ordered in a strangled sort of way, "Lots to see, plenty to do."

"Plenty of trouble to get into you mean," Donna grumbled under her breath then rolled her eyes at his answering glare. "Get gone while I'm changing you great big outer space pervert!"

While not exactly elegant, the accusation had the desired effect of making the Doctor flee the room.

Leaving her all by herself.


	2. You can't escape the past

**A/n:** I know, I know. The update schedule got progressively more atrocious. But I've been out of town and I'm back now! It's a short chapter. But it's something at least!

The Sinner and the Cynical  
Chapter 2: _You can't escape the past_

X

The Doctor and Donna were standing on opposite ends of the console room. Donna leaned against the rails with her back to the doors and the Doctor was hunched over the peroximal centrificator, hiding behind the up and downy thing in the middle.

Donna sucked her teeth and stared at her nail beds. They really were atrocious. She'd been suddenly seized by the urge to bite them ever since her regeneration.

The awkwardness of the silence was crushing. Neither of the two of them had ever been prone to silence. Arguments in the past had been big, shouty ordeals. This was a whole other animal. How do you talk to strangers? Donna wondered. Her social muscles felt atrophied.

"Sooo. Read any good books lately?" she asked.

He gave her a strange look, "No. You?"

She felt stupid for bringing it up. While she was back on Earth Donna had not read a single book. Not for lack of trying.

Human Donna, without her memories had been like a wanderer in the desert; thirsting for knowledge with desperation only the dying can feel. She voraciously devoured endless documentaries and quiz shows. Factoids were her bread and butter after only a couple months. All those tidbits of information were filed away and packed up in her brain, filling the empty spaces a missing year had left.

But she hadn't been able to read anything longer than a page. When she tried to focus on the words the world became so loud and claustrophobic, like there wasn't enough room in her brain for her own thoughts, let alone someone else's. The medication hadn't helped much with that bit.

So maybe this was a bad line of dialogue to go with.

Luckily there was a loud ding coming from one of the bits and bobs.

"That's the (And then he said something that sounded like no language she'd ever heard). It-"

"Goes _ding_ when there's stuff?" she asked wryly.

"Well I wouldn't phrase it exactly like that."

Donna rushed over to the thingamabob, already delirious with excitement. An adventure! Among the stars! It had been so very long. She'd missed her travels, even when she couldn't remember them. The greatness that swept over her was enough to put her fears, resentment and frustration on the back burner. Who needs to sort out their feelings when all of time and space is waiting on you?

Her Time Lord mind was gone with her old body, but she'd had the basics of flying the Tardis down before that whole business aboard the Crucible.

On the dashboard appeared a thick tome. The cover was Tardis blue and it lay open to a page with the thingamabob drawn in diagram form.

"I didn't realize she had an English copy," grumbled the Doctor, snatching it away and giving it a quick peruse.

"Is that the Tardis manual?" Donna exclaimed incredulously. "Give it here!" The fabled Tardis manual, which the Doctor had apparently never read.

Being much taller than her, the Doctor was able to hold it over his head and out of her reach. "Oh no you don't, there will be no following instructions on my ship."

The Tardis made a loud indignant noise.

Donna crossed her arms and eyed him with waning patience. "Your _ship_ seems to beg to differ."

"Manuals are boring," he said petulantly. "My ship, my rules." Then he opened the door and tossed the book into the vortex. "Now, where were- YEOW!" An identical manual fell from a trapdoor in the ceiling and hit him over the head so hard that he almost stumbled out the door and into the vortex himself.

"Hilarious," he grumbled dryly, before tossing the second manual the way of the first.

"Can we circle back to the ding thing now?" Donna demanded impatiently.

The Doctor sighed and returned to the console. "Donna pull the-"

"Already done," she said, with her hand grasping what was essentially a parking break.

Smith and Noble, partners in crime once again.

The Doctor and Donna grinned manically at each other. For a moment it was as if they'd never been apart. It was as if they still knew each other better than anyone ever had. Across the void of separation, the two friends found common ground in their love for the unknown.

"What sort of trouble are you getting me into today Spaceman?" she said, as if these were old times.

 _And maybe_ , thought the Doctor, _if they ignored it all, if they shoved their regrets and hurts into the deep recesses of their hearts, it could be like that again. The Doctor and Donna Noble._

* * *

The sort of trouble one gets into when they fail to keep in touch with their friends apparently.

The pair opened the Tardis doors to be faced with a young woman in her thirties with short brown hair and a polka dotted blue and white dress. She stood with her arms crossed in front of her and wore the pursed lipped look of a schoolteacher, reprimanding someone who was very very late.

"It's 2018," enunciated Clara, "and I've been pinging you for days." She held up a square device with a big red button on it.

"What is that?" asked the Doctor, moving in for a hug, oblivious to Clara's very apparent displeasure. For him, it had not been long since they had parted ways.

"Tardis beacon," she replied in a clipped tone, but hugged the gangly man back nonetheless.

"What?"

"Donna gave it to me last time you dropped by."

"What!"

" _She_ actually reads the manual."

"Do I really?" piped up Donna from behind the Doctor. "That's good to know. I'm sure another will pop up soon then. And you are?"

Clara's disposition melted and she immediately launched into Donna's arms. "Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise, "You're a hugger. Okay."

"Don't worry, I'll meet you for the first time later." She released the older woman and smiled brightly. "Rest assured. You like me very much."

"Oh, I believe that."

 **A/n:** CLARA'S BACK. YAY! One of the many things I always liked about Donna is that she thoroughly passes the bechdel test. She is so protective of the women around her, is never jealous over petty things and is just so excited about everything. One of my favourite scenes is her meeting Martha. Anyway, I just think they'd get along.

Leave a review telling me what you think!


	3. The one who cusses and spits

The Sinner and the Cynical

Chapter 3: _Anyone who does it differently_

X

Clara Oswin Oswald-Pink was an excellent teacher. She was vibrant, passionate, patient and kind. She was the sort of person who wanted to spread the good as much as she could. There came a day when working at a fancy private school in a good neighborhood wasn't enough good. She felt, after all the worlds saved, planets conquered and lives still being lived in that big blue sky (a little because of her) she needed to be doing more.

So she decided to split her time.

Two days a week she taught neat little rows of well-behaved, blazer and tie-wearing children. The other three days were spent at one of the most underfunded and overcrowded schools in the greater London area.

Honestly, there wasn't much difference between the two classes of students. Only…

School had just returned in session after winter hols and two more students from her crowded class had dropped out. She frowned so intensely, as she looked at the attendance sheet, that the lines around her mouth deepened. She was unaware that she was doing it, but she even pouted a little.

Clara felt sorry. Like she had failed Jenn and Andre in some way. They were troubled kids, she knew that well, but she couldn't help but blame herself for their giving up.

The morose young teacher's reverie was broken by a gentle throat clearing. Shona McCullough smiled shortly, nodded and then retreated into herself. She looked down at her toes, took a deep breath and opened her mouth- then she seemed to question herself again and stopped.

"What can I do for you Shona?" Clara asked gently.

"Er, Miss," the girl began, "I don't know if you know this but I, er, I wasn't going to come back."

Clara's brow furrowed as she frowned.

"But see, I did! And er, it's because of you." That made Clara smile a little to herself. Truth be told, she hadn't particularly focused on Shona much these past few months. There were just so many children in need of attention, and her priorities had been with the more overtly troubled of the students.

"That's nice to hear," she replied kindly.

"See, I had this dream- about you and an old man. I was a scientist at the north pole and I was dancing and there were aliens- ooooh I'm not telling this right!"

Taken by surprise, Clara had to laugh. "I think you're telling it exactly right. What happened next?"

Shona blushed and hid her face in her hands. "Santa Claus quoted Ghostbusters and saved us. Then we all rode home in his sleigh."

"That sounds like a lovely dream."

And Clara remembered her. Daft, sweet Shona… Time is so wibbly wobbley. It's such a strange and funny thing. For her it had been almost three years. Anywhere and anywhen, the Doctor had said. And anywhere generally meant London, so it shouldn't have surprised her.

"So you've decided to stay," she circled back to the crucial point.

"Yeah, I think I should try at least. 'Would be brill to actually be a scientist or somethin' some day." And Shona put on this self-affected smile and shrug. It was so endearing and so sad. Clara recognized it well, the mannerisms of a student who didn't really believe in herself.

"Very brill," Clara parroted. "You'll need your maths. And your A levels." Shona nodded along, "You're only 16, you're not so far behind that I can't help you. Anything you need, you just let me know." More nodding.

Clara left the conversation feeling very good about herself. One down, 3000 to go, but as she'd learned long ago, one is enough. One can be everything.

Three days later, Shona disappeared.

* * *

She cornered him by the lockers on the top floor. David Sanchez was a tall, burly type, with a shaved head, tattoos and an odd growth of stubble on his upper lip. Tiny Clara backed him up against the puce painted tin and glared menacingly. "Where is Shona, David?"

He snorted like a great bull and rolled his eyes, "Haven't seen the bint since last term."

" _Language_."

"Well, I haven't!" his surly countenance broke for a moment and a glimmer of worry shone through. "She's ain't in any trouble is she?"

Clara sighed and rubbed between her eyes, "I don't know, David, I _really_ don't know." She slumped her back against the locker and slid to the floor. "You can go David."

He nodded and his moment of solemnity was over, he jogged over to his schoolmates and resumed chortling and roughhousing as if he'd never worried about anyone in his life.

And Clara was left with her heart seizing with disappointment. She'd failed another one. She began to think that maybe this wasn't the place for her. Maybe she should just return to her cushy job in the city center, maybe she wasn't making a difference at all.

' _I'm a shooting star racing through the skyyyy  
like a tiger, defying the laws of gravi-'_

Clara slid her thumb across the screen of her mobile. "Mum?"

"Mum!"

Clara began to giggle, "Hello Baby!"

"Mum, Guh-ran say come mome." Four year old Henry had trouble with his Hs. He actually pronounced his own name 'Bennery'.

"Did Gran say why sweetheart?"

Static of a phone being passed around. "Yes, I'm sorry love. I know you wanted to stay late and do grading, but I've got to pick up your dad from the DMV. The sod can't renew his license without having his eyes checked."

"What? Why?"

"Getting up there in years I expect," Clara's mother huffed. She could picture her rolling her eyes. "Can you come home?"

Home. Home sounded nice.

Where would a teenage girl go if not to school?

"Sure mum, I'll be by to pick Henry up by a quarter past."

An hour later Clara stood in front of the Hersburough Estates clutching the hand of her four-year-old son. She bit her lip and glanced down at his beatific little cherub face.

The building was fifteen stories and looked decrepit and unkempt. Some of the windows were boarded and the buzzer had lewd graffiti all over the names. She couldn't bring her son in there. What had she been thinking?

The front door suddenly burst open. A middle-aged woman with dark skin and frizzy grey hair stomped down the first two steps mumbling to herself. Clara didn't think, she just reacted. She grabbed Henry around the waist and bolted inside before the door could close behind the troubled older woman.

"Oh no, no, no. This was a bad idea little guy," she readjusted him on her hip and took his hand in hers. "Mummy did a dumb thing."

Henry looked up at his mummy with big brown eyes and a gurgly smile. He was getting so big. Gearing up to have all the chances in the world. He was a tiny little ball of potential and goodness. He was perfect. And he would always have her to protect him, push him and support him.

And what did Shona have?

"Okay, five minutes. That's it," she promised the tyke.

"Oh kay," he repeated and put his fist in his mouth.

The address the school had showed that she was on the third floor and the elevator was out of order. And the out of order sign had dust on it. So Clara carried Henry up the three flights and found the dinky green door with the tacky gold painted number on it.

It opened when she turned the knob. Once inside she locked the door and put Henry on his feet. It seemed the safest surface as everything else was covered in dust and junk.

"Shona!" She called into the depths of the flat. Silence echoed back at her.

"Sho-na!" Henry echoed happily.

"That's right Benery! Sho-na!" she clapped and continued her search. "Shona!"

The Pinks' search extended to the four corners of the one room flat, and into the drawers of the nightstand, the kitchen counter. There was little to find beneath an inch of dust that lay untouched.

Shona's red sneakers stood by the door. Her keys were on the counter. Her schoolbag was in a heap with her winter jacket by the couch.

A chill ran up Clara's spine. She grabbed Henry and dashed to the door. She ran down the three flights of stairs, out the door and onto the crowded London street. She never wanted to go back to that sad, grey place, with its empty walls, dirty couch and no bed.

She didn't know what had led to a teenage girl, certainly underrage and almost certainly illegally living on her own. But one thing was for certain, something had befallen Shona McCullough and Clara was going to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

 **A/n:** I think Shona was supposed to be an adult, upon reading her wiki page but I DON'T CARE SUCKAS. Also; I'm fudging a few laws since apparently dropout age is super high in the UK (Which is awesome, you go Glenn Coco).


	4. This ain't about no apologies

The Sinner and the Cynical  
Chapter 4: _This ain't about no apologies_

x

Donna had always loved children. They were funnier and more clever than adults- and delivered their innocent queries with little mind to what they sounded like. She often wondered why people unlearned this behavior; of speaking their minds.

She'd never thought deeply about having her own children. It seemed like such a hassle, and a pipe dream besides. Generally speaking, a man needed to be involved at some point. (Although, her friends Clarice and Hannah had proved that false in 2005 when Lauren was born.)

Henry was as much a delight. He hadn't shut up from the moment they walked in the door. He babbled incessantly about this and that, about his mum and school and all manner of nonsense. And she babbled right back. She was fluent in nonsense, practically bilingual.

The Doctor watched from the doorway of Clara's living room. He watched his friend at the happiest he'd seen her since her second wedding. Or perhaps the day he'd stolen her memories.

In the face of Donna's all eclipsing delight, he turned away and walked into the kitchen, where Clara was waiting and nursing a cup of tea.

"So, is Donna angry with you?" Clara asked casually, taking a dramatic slurp of Earl Grey.

His eyebrows folded into a glare. "What makes you say that?"

"You're being all weird."

The Doctor opened his mouth to respond and shut it, for fear of warping the time stream. "Ask me where I am in my timeline."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Oh, just tell me."

"No, you have to ask."

"Are you trying to train me?" she demanded. "I'm not your companion Mister Tall Dark and Grumpy-"

"Clara, you know better! What if you tell me something important?"

"What? Like you and Donna are together? SPOILER ALERT, she's already travelling with you, you idiot. What a surprise!"

The Doctor made a frustrated, inarticulate noise. "Shut up, shhhh, no more. You can't."

"What is the big deal?" she asked, exasperated.

"I don't know how long she's staying. If you tell me anything, it might be fixed."

"Oh."

The Doctor feared that what Clara would tell him was this: "Oh, why wasn't Donna with you last time?" "Oh, good, she's still with you. She seemed like she was going to toss you out into the vortex last time I saw you two." Pretty much anything that would indicate that this tentative truce between he and Donna Noble was temporary.

"Stop, this isn't like you."

"What?"

"It's not like you to be this afraid."

He chuckled darkly and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly uncomfortable. "It's exactly like me. I spend every waking moment of every century of my life afraid. I can't be alone."

It was a difficult thing to confess and Clara felt a great deal of guilt. After all, she had left him like all the rest- voluntarily even. It almost didn't matter that she invited him back.

She looked at the man in front of her and found it difficult to imagine him finding someone new. He wasn't like his predecessor: not affable, obviously charming or welcoming. How does a crotchety old man like the Doctor make a new friend?

He doesn't, she reflected, he reconnects badly with old ones.

Clara bit her lip. "Am I allowed to tell you not to worry about it too much?"

"I would greatly appreciate it if you did."

"Don't worry about it," she said with a smile and wrapped her little arms around him in a squeezing embrace.

He sighed and patted her head; it only came up to his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Donna was sidetracked by the exact same worries.

'How long can I stay?' She wondered how long she could live the lie she was convinced that life aboard the Tardis would be. Bustling about the Universe with an utter stranger, with an unfamiliar face. This was not the man who had taken her from her boring life on Earth. But he was simultaneously the same man who had taken her memories from her. These feelings were all wrapped up together with confusion, frustration and an admirable ability to ignore it all, in favor of the excitement of travelling again.

In her own strange, amnesiac way she had itched for the stars (and the man who had brought her to them) worse than the first time. She was perfectly willing to forget just who and how dangerous her travelling partner was. For now at least.

But, dancing around the living room with Henry, evidence of his kindness and friendship was another matter entirely. It made it a smidge harder to comfortably resent him.

When they'd first walked through the door Henry had toddled right up to the Doctor, ignoring his mum, and hugged the skinny old man's leg. He'd beamed up at him with trust and admiration. And Clara, sweet, silly, practical Clara had looked at him in much the same way.

Watching him with them she'd thought _the Doctor can be so very human._ It was a treacherous line of thinking, with her so determined to not like him.

Hers and Henry's (mostly her) rendition of _Safety Dance_ was suddenly cut off by Clara and the Doctor's entrance.

 _-You can leave your friends behind!_

 _If your friends don't dance and if they don't dance_

 _Well they're no friends of mi-!_

Her can-can was impeccable, but she'd have preferred if she didn't have an adult audience for that.

Clara was polite enough not to mention it, the Doctor was not. "What in the bloody hell are you doing? Are you having a fit?"

Her face burned with embarrassment, but also with rage. Only Henry's presence prevented Donna from giving the idiot a slap.

"We're going to Shona's."

"Wait wot. Who's Shona?"

* * *

The Doctor ran the sonic all over the flat to no avail. He could find nothing out of place. There was no evidence of a single non-terrestrial being (with the exception of himself) that had ever been inside the building.

For a second, his sensors had picked up something not quite human, but it was only Donna.

The woman rolled her eyes and shifted all her weight onto one side so her hip jutted out. It was a familiar pose; one that communicated annoyance.

He pulled a face right back and continued his thorough search. "She very well might have just run away."

Clara seemed disappointed.

Donna immediately felt for her. She relaxed her pose and reached an arm around the young woman's shoulders. "Might not be. Her shoes are by the door. Her stuff seems like it's all here. Wherever she went she didn't bring any essentials with her."

Clara nodded, swayed by her logic and desire for that to be true. Better an external disaster they could save Shona from, than herself.

"Besides school, where does Shona spend time?" asked Donna, who was no stranger to the ways of rebellious young girls.

Clara sniffed and rubbed a pale hand down her face. "Er, some of the boys she used to hang out with skip and go to the park behind the school to smoke. I'm not really sure where else to be honest."

"Then we'll go to school in the morning," declared the Doctor.

"Oh god," groaned Clara, "Not again."


	5. A bitter pill to swallow

The Sinner and The Cynical

Chapter 5 : _A bitter pill to swallow_

 _x_

"What in gods name are you wearing?" the Doctor demanded the next morning.

Donna, who had been putting on her makeup in Clara's small guest bath, whirled around and smudged eyeliner all down her cheek. "Well isn't that just _wizard_ ," she complained and set about wiping the dark scour away with some toilet paper. "What did you do that for?"

The Doctor cleared his throat and studiously glared at a spot on the shower curtains right behind her head. "You were taking forever and I want to leave."

"Careful, that reeks of whinging."

"And what are you wearing?"

Donna couldn't contain her glee. She ran her hands down her hips and then returned them to taper in her waist. Her dress was tight, black and had a high collar. It was technically professional but she felt it added an air of sexy to her rather diminutive new stature. A pair of rectangular glasses were perched on her nose. "Are you talking about the brainy specs? You're not the only one who can look clever."

He cleared his throat again, glanced down at her very voluptuous frame and chose not to correct her, for fear of being slapped. It occurred to him that he was doing quite a bit these days to avoid the palm of Donna's hand. He resolved to cease this oddly cautious behavior. Immediately. At the next opportunity. Surely he could find some way to stand up for himself that would set a precedent. He would not be bullied across the universe, no sir!

"I know," Donna said self consciously, smoothing her hands over her hips again in a nervous gesture. "It's a bit much, but I figure 'gotta make a good first impression." She always did love to dress up for an occasion.

The Doctor himself was wearing a dark green suit with a pale blue dress shirt beneath it.

"You two ready to go?" Clara appeared in the doorway, joining them in the small bathroom. The Doctor automatically moved further into the room to accommodate her, bringing him into Donna's personal space. He could smell her perfume. It was different than he remembered, but then again that may be the new olfactory system. The same way old tongues had a taste for banana and new ones liked berries.

Donna and the Doctor exchanged a glance, their gazes shrouded, questions under the veil. Donna spoke first. "Yeah. Just a mo'." She pulled a tub of lipstick out of her purse- bright red –and applied it to her lips. "Ready."

* * *

The Doctor felt cramped, sitting in the back of Clara's tiny blue car. His long legs had no room to stretch out. Donna, who was sitting in the front passenger seat, flat out refused to move her seat up. Beside him, Henry giggled, delighted to have company for once.

"Doctah," said Henry, waving his arms about. "Are you comin' tah school wif me?"

"No Henry, unfortunately I have to school with Mummy. It's a rather boring school in comparison."

"That's what she says," he frowned and fidgeted in his car seat.

"I'm sorry Henry," the Doctor muttered, realizing that Donna was now watching from the rearview mirror. "One day we'll go to school together and I'll teach everyone quantum mechanics and transdimensional theory."

Henry didn't know what that was, but quantum was a cool word, so he cheered.

"He's four! He's learning his colors and the alphabet."

"Really? Human children are so slow to develop."

In the front seat Donna had to fight to mash down a grin. Hand over her mouth, she leaned against the window and let the cool glass sooth her suddenly burning face.

Soon after dropping Henry at nursery, they arrived at the secondary school. Donna turned in her seat and thrust out her hand. "Can I have one of the psychic papers?"

"What? I've only got one," said the Doctor.

"Why the hell do you only have one?"

He shrugged.

"Are they hard to come by?"

"Well no, not for a Time Lord."

"Well, then why don't you have extras?"

"Why would I need extras?"

Donna huffed but didn't shout. The Doctor was starting to suspect that this regeneration of hers didn't shout or slap at all. "Can I have it please?" she asked, not impatiently but with a twinge of impatience.

"WOT?!"

Clara growled and snatched the psychic paper from him and handed it to Donna. "Enough already please."

Lead by the tiny brunette they marched through the metal detectors, into the school and the front office. "Hello Carson," Clara greeted the receptionist pleasantly. "I've just bumped into the new staff, have you met?"

Carson blushed at Clara's sweet smile and shook his head. He didn't so much as peep.

The Doctor stooped to whisper in Donna's ear. "We may not even need the psychic paper." At the feeling of his breath on her neck Donna flinched away and took a step forward.

He felt the sting of her rejection as if it physically ailed him. It was a hollow sort of pain that clutched his throat and squeezed his lungs. He didn't know any other way to communicate with Donna if sniping, joking and collectively mocking others were out. She nodded awkwardly and took a step back, shaking him out of her personal space.

The tension between them was less of a fog and more like a wall. She was polite and distant, like a guest he didn't know very well. Like your wife's cousin, who you only meet once in a while, at weddings and funerals. Small talk is the bread and butter of the relationship, silence its' sustenance, filling you up with the awkward, awful weight of expectations unfulfilled.

Basically, it was just so awkward. He didn't need a polite houseguest. He needed a friend.

And he wanted Donna. The Donna that was.

But she was gone, stripped away by his theft. Eroded by years in a life that constricted her, by people who used and abandoned her. By the Master's trickery. By the blast of a laser. By her own sacrifice. By time.

He realized that he didn't know this person who for lack of better options, boarded the Tardis.

The Doctor stood off to the side while Clara and Donna worked out whatever arrangement they could with the nigh on unnecessary psychic paper.

Donna click clacked towards him in red heels. He was briefly distracted by the bright color against the paleness of her skin and freckles on her calves, so he grunted when she shoved a paper into his chest. "What did you get me?" he asked.

Donna pursed her red coated lips and a dimple in her right cheek stood out. "History," she snapped.

He had to laugh a little, that was classic Donna. Original recipe, OG Donna Noble. Having the time traveller teach history.

"And you?"

"Maths," she replied primly.

And then the Doctor did something very very stupid. He snorted.

"What? Think I can't do maths? Think I'm too thick to understand?" she began to gesture wildly and roll her eyes in circles so quick they were like wheels spinning in their sockets. "What are these strange markings? I have never seen such things! What do all the funny lines mean?"

"I'm not calling you thick," he hissed through his teeth, she was causing a scene. "I'm just saying it has been _quite a while_ since you did secondary level maths."

"Oooooh _no,_ " came the dangerous hiss. "Did you just call me old _spaceman_?"

a/n: Well. He was complaining that she wasn't fighting with him.


	6. Anyone who does it differently

**A/n:** Two posts in one week! That should get you guys to forgive me for how short this one is.

The Sinner and the Cynical

Chapter 6: _Anyone who does it differently_

X

Later, Donna and Clara were alone in the teachers lounge, sipping at their coffee. Clara's was black and Donna's had an obscene amount of sugar in it. This was new. She used to take it black as well. She wonders if it's a side effect of having a bonkers Time Lord invade your brain, if maybe he rearranged a few things while he was in there and she'd suddenly really love cricket or something. Or maybe it was just regenerating. The Doctor had said it makes you a whole new person, that _he_ was a different man now. But Donna couldn't make herself believe that to be perfectly true.

"You know," said Clara, bringing her mug to her lips. "I'm sort of glad I get to be here at the beginning."

"What do you mean?"

"You have to understand Donna, I first met you years ago. Since then I've only gotten to see you as you will be. It's exciting to see where it all starts."

"So many good days ahead," Donna whispered to herself with a self-parodying smile.

"Sorry?"

"Oh it's nothing, something someone said to me once."

"It's just- I'm also glad. I don't think we would get along the same if I didn't know where we all end up."

Donna raised her eyebrows and smirked. "Don't think you'd like me much? That's alright, I get that."

"No no," the younger woman said quickly. "It's just different. The Doctor's my friend. I think I'd worry more."

"Aren't you messing with the timeline, telling me it's all going to be hunky-dory?"

"No, I mean, of course _you_ already know it's all going to be okay."

"Didn't realize that was something I knew," she contradicted, wryly.

"Well of course you are, you're Donna and the Doctor, don't be stupid."

"We _used_ to be Donna and the Doctor," Donna corrected. "He broke my trust. He took away my right to choose. He had no right! It was my choice and he made it for me. You know what he's like-!"

"Donna," called Clara, gently. "I'm not… You're not going to get me to agree with you."

Donna wasn't entirely sure why she'd thought she would.

"In the years to come, I promise, I side with you more than not. The Doctor is a hard man to live with. He's difficult and childish. But He _loves you,_ so much. He would do anything to save you. He did the same for me; I've done the same for him. I'd do the same for you or Henry. You can't tell me that you wouldn't do anything for your granddad, or your mum-"

"Well, maybe not my mum," Donna joked weakly.

Clara smiled knowingly. "You say that now, but well, spoilers." She shrugged, "sorry Donna."

"Why should you be sorry?" she reached the bottom of her cup and got up to deposit it in the sink. Her back was to Clara, who couldn't see her face crumpling in pain. "You're the Doctor's friend."

And Donna knows she is not. But she also has nowhere else to go.

The Doctor found that he was greatly enjoying teaching. The audience was large, and it paid him little attention, but it was much the same as having a room full of companions listening to his newest scheme. He's used to not being understood, to apathetic eyes glazing over when he speaks. This group is only an improvement, as at least some seem to understand him when he speaks.

"Er, sir?" a young girl with her hair in bantu knots raised her hand and bit her lower lip. "That's not how the textbook says it happened."

The Doctor rolls his eyes and checks the roll. "…Deisha. Right. Who are you going to believe? Some idiot who writes textbooks for a living or someone who was actually there?"

She laughed and put her hand down.

"Moving right along. I-"

"Mr. Smith?" a man in his thirties with scruff and thick eyebrows poked his head in. "The bell rang 15 minutes ago. It's supposed to be my class next."

"I'm not finished," said the Doctor in a hard sort of way.

The teacher locked eyes with the older man for a moment, took a deep breath and withdrew.

Satisfied, the Doctor returned to his thoughts on English colonial history. A cough disturbed him. He looked up to find 30 anxious 15-year-olds glancing at the clock and sporting varying degrees of worried expressions.

"Fine. Fine! You may go." The teenagers all scrambled to gather their things and run while they still could.

When the last of them had filed out, the scruffy teacher who'd been such a _nag_ entered and dropped his books on the desk that the Doctor was still occupying. He held out his hand to shake. _What was with humans and their insistence on touching each other?_ The Doctor delicately took the man's pinky between his index finger and thumb and shook it.

"Dr. Smith," the Time Lord announced.

"Oh, a doctor! What're you doing teaching in a place like this?" at his silence, the human responded in kind, "Alan Paulson. I'm the guidance counselor… and I teach Maths. We're under funded." He said by way of explanation.

"My friend Donna teaches Maths," the Doctor said, without thinking.

"Really? New maths teacher," his interest piqued. The Doctor looked at him strangely. Why should he care? He'd only said it to make small talk. Clara was always telling him how important small talk was for people to not instantly hate you. "Oh, is that the redhead?"

 _Oh no. Sorry. WHAT._

Clara has been talking to other teachers in her off periods. When she asked them if any of their students have stopped coming to class she got the answer she had expected. "Mrs. Oswald. You're not at a private school anymore. _Most_ of them don't graduate." Sometimes it was said kindly, other times condescendingly. She's frustrated each time. None of them have noticed anything particular about any of the kids who left.

 _Who cares? Who is caring for these kids? No one._

Except…

Mrs. Dina Goldberg was the librarian, a sweet little thing with a mane of frizzy brown hair, dark, freckled skin, glasses and a Canadian accent. One of the only conversations Clara has had with her was when she had mistakenly called her an American and her feeble, mouse-like temper had flared.

She approached Clara at the end of one of her classes, intercepted her at the door and ushered her back inside. "You've been asking about missing students," she whispered.

"Yes," replied Clara slowly, hope dawning.

"Well," Mrs. Goldberg bit her lip and clutched at the pendant at her throat. "There was this one boy. One of the younger years. He would cut class and read in the library. He was really respectful, would always sit in the stacks. His name was Aniq? A couple weeks ago he stopped coming. He was a good kid!" she insisted, "His English wasn't great, but he spoke French, so we could communicate fine. He liked it here, he was learning. And then-"

"He disappeared," Clara nodded and put a comforting hand on Dina's shoulder, "Shona. One of my students. She came to me after winter hols and told me that she wanted to be a scientist. That she'd try harder. Then she was gone."

"Have you found anything?" Dina asked hopefully.

"Not yet, but the cavalry's arrived."

Turns out the cavalry are very annoying to live with. Their growing frustration with each other was growing suffocating, hour by hour. They weren't even yelling at each other, just stewing in silence and making Clara crazy.

"Shut up shut up shut up," the Doctor eventually groaned as the telly droned in the background.

Donna, who had been biting her nails and doing the Times' Sudoku fisted her hands into balls so tightly that her nails bit at her skin and her knuckles cracked. She sighed loudly and glared at the back of the Doctor's head.

"Why don't you do something productive?"

"Why don't _you_ stop being passive aggressive?"

" _That's_ a passive aggressive thing to say."

Clara was going to turn _actually_ aggressive if they didn't get it together soon.

 **a/n:** I'm with Clara...

Reviews are like a scottish accent singing of life, despair and bonnie lasses. Exhilarating, sexy and incomprehensibly awesome.


	7. This one goes out to the ones in need

The Sinner and the Cynical

Chapter 7: this one goes out to the ones in need.

 _X_

Shona was very afraid. Last she remembered, she'd been asleep on the couch when a resounding bang had thrown her from her dream. There were men dressed in black, with hooded faces standing all around her. The closest one stepped forward and pressed something to her mouth. She screamed, but it was muffled by the sweet smelling cloth. She held her breath, she knew how this went. He pinched her nose. She still refused to breathe. A second figure stepped forward and grabbed her arm. Shona struggled but he managed to stab her with the sharp end of a needle.

He pushed the plunger and she knew no more.

She'd woken up in a dirty gray room. The walls, ceiling and concrete floor had all been painted the same dull gray. There were no windows. Shona noticed that someone had changed her. She was wearing loose fitting white scrubs and thin gray socks. The cold of the floor leeched into her through the knit fabric, making her toes numb. There were no windows and it was just big enough for her to lie down. Metal grating, like a dog cage, fenced her in on all sides.

Shona crawled towards the door of her crate. All around her she could see identical crates. Inside them she could see people, teenagers of different sizes, genders and races. Some, she could see were asleep, or unconscious. Others were slumped against the walls staring off into space.

In a panic, Shona shoved against the metal wires, trying to break it, or at least get the other prisoner's attention. She smashed against the barrier with all her might, but was only left with bruises while the grating bounced back.

"Stop," said a heavily accented voice. In the cell across from her was a boy. He was younger than she was, maybe thirteen. He had brown skin and dark curly hair that fell to his shoulders. He wore identical white scrubs. "It won't help."

"Where am I?" she asked.

"I don't know," his face was a grim mask. "No one can hear us, do not try."

"Well of course I'm going to try," she retorted, before shoving against her cage with renewed vigor. "Hey! Somebody! Help!"

The boy sighed, "No, I do not mean. My English is not good. I mean it will not help to be loud."

"Don't bother."

"Yes, yes exactly."

Shona sighed and sat down, cross-legged. "What's your name kid?"

"Aniq."

"I'm Shona," she replied. "You said you don't know where we are. But what is this place? How long have you been here? Have you seen anyone? What are we doing here?" This all came out like word vomit, quick, endless and almost unintelligible.

Aniq looked overwhelmed.

* * *

The Doctor was growing increasingly frustrated with having to listen to the conversation going on five feet behind him. Not that anyone was _making_ him listen, Donna would point out. But it needled at him nonetheless. It was all just so very insipid. Humans and their mating habits.

Beside him Clara rolled her eyes at the ceiling and wondered how she used to deal with the Doctor when he was like this. She came to the conclusion that when he'd travelled with her, he hadn't been the child she saw before her now. "Oh please," Clara huffed and elbowed him.

"What?" he snapped, rubbing his arm. "Leave off, yeah?"

"If it bothers you so much, just leave." She told him, a note of amusement creeping into her voice.

Meanwhile, Donna was having a delightful flirt with one of the other Maths teachers. Alan was handsome in a classical way, with an endearing smile and sweet dimples. "Chiswick, really?" he was saying as if it were actually interesting. "Never been, myself."

"Lucky you!"

"Oh I'm sure it can't be all bad. You came out of it after all."

"Oh come off it, you," she swatted his arm playfully.

In some ways Donna was surprised that she even remembered how to flirt. How does one speak to a man not poised to kill, maim or otherwise annoy her? She wasn't altogether sure! But it seemed to be working.

"Would you like to have dinner sometime?"

Oh dear. Well. She'd only be here for a short time… And it had been a while since a man had showed a proper interest in her, well, one who wasn't a sociopath. "I'd like that," she replied, looking up at him from beneath her lashes and fringe.

"So I'll see you around." Alan winked at her on his way out the door, presumably to get to a class.

Donna sighed and sat back down at the table with Clara and the Doctor. She was visibly smug, even humming to herself. "Still got it," she preened.

The Doctor rolled his eyes at her. "You know that this is in your close future right? You can't stay here long, you'll cross over your own timeline."

Donna glared daggers at him for reasons more deep than just a ribbing about her love life. "Well, see, I might never go home to my own time so actually there's very little danger of that."

The rest of the period passed in silence with the three time travellers avoiding all eye contact with each other and everyone else in the room.

Five minutes before the warning bell was set to ring Donna leaned forward in her chair and mumbled, while barely moving her lips. "I brought the office girls coffee the other morning and stole one of their keys. Made a copy this morning. After hours I'll sneak back in a see what our missing kids have in common." Then she gathered her graded papers, pens and left for her last lesson of the day.

"I could have just used the sonic," the Doctor pointed out to Clara.

"Yeah, but you didn't." She smirked, "You should really consider bringing back your 'wearable technology', you're very easy to read without the raybans."


End file.
